


Complications

by lary



Series: The Truth [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Slash, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:11:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lary/pseuds/lary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saying that Malfoy makes Harry's life challenging would be like saying that Snape sometimes treats Harry unfairly. The understatement of the year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Complications

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own them. Still.

 

 

“C'mon, let's go already.”

 

“Just let me finish my breakfast,” Ron grumbled.

 

“What is with you today, Harry?” Hermione asked, grinning. “Normally we have to drag you kicking and screaming into Snape's class.”

 

Harry shrugged. He'd woken up full of energy. Apparently that was a side-effect of having sex with Malfoy, but he was hardly going to mention that to his friends.

 

He had a jittery feeling all through DADA, and it intensified exponentially when they made their way towards Potions class.

 

Seeing Malfoy didn't particularly help. The other boy acted as if nothing was going on, and Harry tried to do the same, but it was like the mere awareness of Draco sitting a few rows behind him was making his blood run quicker.

 

“Today is an exciting day, boys and girls,” Slughorn said, smiling from ear to ear. “We shall be starting with the final project.”

 

Hermione perked up and Ron groaned from his other side.

 

“You will have a month to finish your projects. Together with a partner, you are expected to brew any NEWT level potion. The grading is strict, as it will reflect what we require in your NEWTs. I'm certain, with the talent in this class, many of you will do very well,” Slughorn said with a genial glance in Harry's direction. “Now, why don't everybody pick a partner.”

 

“Harry?” Ron said quickly. Hermione gave them an icy glare. She gathered her books and moved to sit by Ernie, who looked like Christmas had come early. Ron was pulling the Prince's textbook closer, when a lazy drawl from behind them interrupted him.

 

“Excuse me, Weasel, but Potter and I shall be working together. Isn't that right?” Draco levelled a narrow-eyed stare at Harry, who swallowed nervously.

 

“Um, Ron?”

 

“You're not serious!” Ron said indignantly. His scowl deepened when he took in the room and noticed that the only one without a partner was Zabini, who was staring at Malfoy with a gobsmacked expression. Ron got up huffing and moved to the table next to the dark-skinned Slytherin, dropping his books down heavily. Sitting next to Harry, Malfoy gave them a dazzling smile, which made Zabini roll his eyes.

 

“Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, what a surprise,” Slughorn said. “I am glad to see that you have put your differences behind you and are providing an example of interhouse co-operation.”

 

“Of course, sir,” Malfoy answered smoothly, and Slughorn favoured them with a bright smile before praising the rest of the class for the right attitude. Ron and Zabini answered him with matching dark looks, which the professor didn't seem to notice, moving on to describing the final project.

 

Harry was thoroughly distracted from Slughorn's speech when Draco's hand pressed onto his thigh his under the table, warm and solid.

 

“What are you doing?” Harry hissed under his breath. The blond had his eyes trained on Slughorn as if listening avidly, but his hand crept slowly upwards towards Harry's rapidly hardening prick. He quickly halted its progress by taking hold of Draco's wrist. The other boy smirked and muttered an incantation. A quick stabbing pain flashed through his hand and Harry released his grip, yelping in surprise.

 

“Mr. Potter, are you quite alright?”

 

“Fine, sir,” Harry replied quickly. He didn't dare to try and stop Draco again. It took every effort not to moan when the skilled fingers moved over the bulge in his trousers and opened his fly, and Harry had no idea how Malfoy managed that with his left hand, all the while pretending to make notes of Slughorn's speech with his right.

 

Draco got Harry's trousers and pants out of the way with a seeming ease and took a hold of Harry's prick. Harry stared towards the front of the class and their thankfully oblivious professor, trying to control his breathing. He couldn't deny his arousal, not just because Draco was touching him but because he was doing it in the middle of a potions class, without anybody the wiser. He didn't dare to look around.

 

He barely stifled a moan when Malfoy tightened his hold, and that finally made his brain come back online.

 

“Please, Draco, stop...” he whispered.

 

“You're so pretty when you're begging,” Draco said. And then he did that thing where he pressed a nail over Harry's slit, and it was all Harry could do to not scream out.

 

“I'll do anything you want, later, if you just stop now.” Harry bit his lip hard when he felt his balls draw up. His voice shook. “Anything, please.”

 

Malfoy's laughter rumbled out of him, so soft and low that nobody else could hear it. “Ah, but you already do, don't you?” he said. The tone, amused and fond and pleased, it was like hot pleasure curling around Harry, just like Draco's fingers were curling around his erection. “My very own little whore. You love pleasing me, you love handing your body over to me to use how I wish, and you love it when I'm telling you what to do. And right now I tell you to be fucking quiet and _come_.”

 

And Harry did. He wanted to, _needed_ to yell, when his cock pulsed and coated Draco's fingers and he couldn't have stopped himself, not even if the rest of the class would find out. The only reason he could keep quiet was that Draco had ordered him to. He shut his eyes and pressed his lips closed, digging his fingernails into his palms while he trembled out his orgasm, his mind engulfed into white-hot pleasure.

 

“Good boy,” Draco whispered into his ear, and it felt like a caress.

 

 _Bloody fuck. Malfoy's gonna be the death of me_.

 

The rest of the class passed without incident. Slughorn told them to have their proposals ready for next week. Draco smiled at Harry in a wicked way.

 

“We better meet up later, then, Potter,” he said, before strolling out. Zabini sent him a suspicious glance and followed Malfoy.

 

Harry sought out his friends and his stomach dropped. Ron glared at him as he packed away his books, and Hermione didn't look either of them, walking out of the class in an animated conversation with Ernie.

 

**

 

The rest of the day was miserable. Ron didn't talk to him once, until Harry was leaving the common room.

 

“Have fun with the ferret, mate!”

 

Dean laughed, and then looked a bit embarrassed. Harry sighed, throwing his backpack over his shoulder, and clambering out the portrait hole.

 

Getting closer to the alcove where they'd met the day before, Harry was filled with nervous excitement, checking out the map to make sure, once more, that Draco was still there.

 

Malfoy smiled, smugly, when he saw Harry. He set away the books he'd been skimming through and sent spells at the end of the corridor. Harry dropped his bag down, facing the blond feeling rather self-conscious. He didn't really know what to say to his school rival now that they were more interested in things other than fighting, but Malfoy took care of that problem.

 

“On your knees, Potter.” He stalked forwards predatorily, opening his robes, and Harry was getting aroused something fierce. It was bloody weird how much he liked being bossed around by Malfoy, but as he got on his knees, he felt all thoughts flee his head. When Malfoy took out his cock, Harry opened his mouth eagerly.

 

“Fucking finally.” Draco pushed his cock into Harry's mouth, salty and overwhelming. It made Harry feel like he was right where he was supposed to be. “Do you know how many times I've had to wank since I made you come in potions earlier?”

 

Harry couldn't help it, he moaned. Draco's eyes flashed pure lust. He buried his fingers into Harry's hair and shoved his prick in deep. Harry swallowed around it, his eyes watering. The lack of air made him clutch Draco's thighs in instinctive panic, but at the same time it was a major turn on.

 

When the other boy pulled out, he had barely time to breathe in before Draco's cock was filling his mouth again, pressing into his throat, making him gag and moan around it.

 

The sounds were spurring Draco on, he held on harder and started fucking Harry's mouth properly, holding onto his hair in a way that sent pain and pleasure travelling down his spine. He tried to suck, but when Draco's pace became harsher, he could no more than try to relax his throat and let the other boy use him.

 

God, the thought made his cock feel like bursting, and he moved his right hand to take a hold of himself. The sensations made him groan.

 

“Good, just like that, touch yourself--” Draco's words came out harsh and breathless as he kept fucking in. “Ohh, yes, do it, rub it harder, oh fuck...”

 

Harry looked up and Draco fell quiet, his grey eyes piercing Harry, who blushed under the scrutiny, very aware that he was _wanking_ in front of Malfoy. For a moment, the only sounds were Draco's hard breathing and the obscene, wet noises that were suddenly loud in Harry's ears. Draco's hand moved down his jaw. His eyes were bright.

 

“Merlin, Harry, you're such a slut,” Draco whispered, his voice reverent, caressing, and Harry came undone, feeling the tingling start from his spine and spread all over until he was erupting.

 

Draco pulled back, eyes fixed on Harry's pulsing cock, fisting himself harshly.

 

“Open up,” Draco growled. Harry had barely time to obey and then Draco was coming in his mouth. Harry swallowed, the bitter taste unpleasant but somehow _right._ And he wasn't disappointed that he had when Malfoy dropped down and kissed him, lapping at the taste of his own spunk.

 

Harry chuckled. “Pervert,” he murmured against Draco's lips.

 

“Look who's talking,” Draco remarked, but he was grinning. Harry felt a stupid, fluttery feeling. He was pretty sure it was insane, but his fingers still went to comb through the soft, blond hair, until Draco got up and out of reach, summoning his wand to fix his robes.

 

“Have I earned a spell, too?” Harry asked, getting up.

 

Draco flicked his wand at him absently. Then he did a double take and started laughing softly. Harry frowned. His robes fell down as if they were new, but something else was wrong.

 

“My hair feels weird.”

 

“Not as weird as it looks,” Draco said. “I really must be a natural if I can tame your mop. Good to know.”

 

Harry ran a hand through his hair, which fell smoothly around his face. Draco stepped forwards and sank his hands into it, messing it up again.

 

“Hey! What did you do that for?”

 

“Nobody would've recognised the Saviour.”

 

“You were just jealous 'cause my hair looked better than yours,” Harry smirked.

 

Draco snorted. “You wish, Potter,” he said, before he picked up his books and strolled off.

 

**

 

The common room had been empty when Harry had returned, and he'd been happy to sneak in without anybody finding out. His good mood lasted until the breakfast, but then deteriorated fast. Hermione was still angry that he was using Prince's book for the final project, and she was freezing him out. Ron was doing the same, miffed that Harry was doing the project with Draco.

 

There was no classes with Slytherins to look forward to, today, and Malfoy ignored him when they ran into each other. Harry knew that they couldn't very well be seen together around the school, but it still stung.

 

He started to get seriously annoyed when Ron refused to talk to him during quidditch practice, only giving mono-syllabic responses to his instructions. Harry was still getting changed when Ron hurried off. By the time Harry made it to the Gryffindor common room, he was seething. His mood didn't improve with the sight of Ginny and Dean making out on the couch. Why could other people snog whenever and wherever they wanted to? There was no way he and Draco could ever be together that way. There wasn't a single person in the wizarding Britain that wouldn't freak out completely.

 

Not that Malfoy would want to be together. They had nothing in common, apart from wanting to shag each other, and Harry was an idiot for letting himself fall for the git. He should end it now, he knew it. A twinge of pain at the thought told him that it might already be too late.

 

Why did his life always have to be so damn complicated?

 

When he barged into the dormroom, he sent a pleading look to Neville. “Can you give us a minute?”

 

“No need,” Ron said from his bed, but Neville ignored him.

 

“No problem, Harry.” Neville gathered a plant from his bed, carefully untangling the leaves that were trying to latch onto his fingers.

 

Harry waited for the door to close after him, before he crouched down next to Ron's bed and shoved him to make room. Ron grumbled under his breath but moved up to sit against the headrest, and Harry sat across from him.

 

“What's your problem?” Harry demanded.

 

“Malfoy,” Ron snapped.

 

“Look, I'm sorry!” Harry exclaimed. “Don't you think I'd rather do the project with you than the git? He knows I have the Prince's book! He already threatened to tell Snape once. The only way I can ensure he won't turn me in is by making sure he gets something out of it. You get that, right?”

 

“Of course I get that. “ Ron narrowed his eyes. “Malfoy's a bloody Slytherin, nothing new about that. What I don't get is you.”

 

“I told you, I couldn't say no--”

 

“Not the book,” Ron interrupted. “I mean about you liking him.”

 

“What makes you think I like him?” Harry felt his face heat threateningly.

 

“You didn't seem to much mind it when he kissed you in that broomshed. And the both of you have been acting weird ever since.”

 

“He took me by surprise! And I've barely looked at him after that, you can't deny that,” Harry said. He'd been careful to ignore Malfoy in public ever since the incident with the Veritaserum. He was certain Ron didn't know why they'd really been meeting each other.

 

“Yeah, that's what's so weird,” Ron muttered, then asked, “What happened with him anyway?”

 

Harry shrugged awkwardly. He really didn't want to get into it. Ron wouldn't understand and Harry had no way to even try to explain why he was so attracted to Malfoy.

 

“C'mon, mate, Malfoy didn't just suddenly decide to kiss you. What happened?”

 

“The potion didn't work as it should have.”

 

“Yeah, I gathered that much.” Ron rolled his eyes. “Look, I'm not stupid, no matter what you seem to think. I know something's going on with you and the Slytherin prat. Just tell me already.”

 

“I don't want to fight with you.”

 

“So, it's something bad, then,” Ron said.

 

Harry sighed, bracing himself for an inevitable explosion. “I fancy him.”

 

Surprisingly, Ron didn't miss a beat. “In what way?”

 

“You sure you wanna know?” Harry asked, with a tentative sense of relief.

 

“Merlin, no, not the details,” Ron said quickly.

 

“What then?”

 

“Is it just a crush or are you gonna do something about it? Do you think you're bent?” Ron asked, then grinned, “And, mate. Malfoy? Do you need your head examined?”

 

“Wanker,” Harry laughed. “I guess I'm not exactly straight, I can tell you that much. And it's a bit late for the not doing anything about it part.”

 

“That's sort of what I was afraid of.”

 

“You don't seem all that freaked out...”

 

“No accounting for taste, I guess,” Ron said. “As far as blokes go, Malfoy's not bad-looking. If you can ignore the demon horns, that is. It's just, you're the one who's been saying that he's a Death Eater. Are you sure you know what you're doing?”

 

“Yeah, I'm sure,” Harry lied. He thought about the Dark Mark on Malfoy's arm and guilt twisted unpleasantly in his stomach. He pictured Malfoy kneeling in front of Voldemort and the guilt morphed into an ugly, fanged beast, ready to attack and ravage and slay. He looked away from Ron and stared at the quidditch posters on the wall. “I know what I'm doing.”

 

“If you say so,” Ron said dubiously.

 

**

 

The weight in Harry's gut didn't diminish during the evening, which he spent in a futile attempt at studying. However, over an hour after the other boys had gone to sleep, Harry was still wide awake, tossing and turning in his bed. Finally, he gave it up, digging out the map. With a jolt of trepidation and excitement, he spotted Malfoy's dot in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

 

 _We've got to talk_ , Harry thought. He pulled on his robes determinedly and sneaked out of the tower. However, when he finally got to the bathroom, all thoughts left his head. Draco was leaning against the sink. Harry had never seen him looking so small and defeated.

 

“Draco, are you all right?”

 

Malfoy spun around. His wand was drawn and his grey eyes flashed dangerously. “How the fuck do you always manage to find me, Potter?” he demanded.

 

“I...” Harry started, so taken aback by the sudden venom in Draco's voice so much that he didn't know what to say. He stared with some disbelief when Malfoy pointed his wand at him.

 

“Get out. Just leave me the hell alone.”

 

“Draco...”

 

“Don't! Don't you fucking dare!” Malfoy shouted, almost hysterically, stepping closer. His eyes were cold and shuttered, and Harry couldn't see even a flicker of Draco in them. This was Malfoy in front of him, Malfoy armed with a wand and looking ready to attack him, and that felt worse than any curse.

 

He stepped backwards towards the door, trying desperately to search for the boy he'd seen before, the boy who was soft and human and beautiful. He could find nothing. Malfoy was like ice.

 

Harry turned and fled.

 

**

 

Despite the fact that both of his friends were talking to him again, Harry had rarely felt as alone. He felt miserable, but he couldn't really show it. Nobody knew that anything had gone wrong with Draco. Nobody knew there was a Draco, except for Ron, sort of, and they certainly weren't talking about it. The silent treatment he'd gotten from Hermione during the past few days meant that she didn't know about Malfoy, beyond that one kiss that she and Ron had witnessed. Harry had a hard time believing that it had only been a few days since then. How had Draco managed to worm his way under Harry's skin so irreversibly?

 

When Harry saw Malfoy next day at breakfast, his heart leapt hopefully. But then the blond's dispassionate gaze swept over him as if he was air, and the ache came back, worse than before.

 

Clearly, there was no Draco anymore, not for him at least. Maybe Harry had imagined him in the first place.

 

**

 

In the following days, Harry threw himself into his schoolwork and into quidditch, but he couldn't seem to put Draco out of his mind. When Dumbledore invited him to his office and showed him another memory of Tom Riddle, Harry knew he should tell him about the Dark Mark on Malfoy's arm, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

 

Ron asked him about Malfoy, once, when they were about to go to sleep, and Harry told him there was now actually nothing going on. Ron didn't seem as relieved as he would've expected, but let it go. Hermione was, thankfully, too stressed about the end of year exams to notice Harry's mood.

 

As the days went by, they got closer to the potions class, and Harry felt as though he'd happily face Voldemort right now if it meant he didn't have to work on a project with Malfoy, this Malfoy who hated him again.

 

But he had no such luck. When Harry entered the classroom, Malfoy was already sitting at the place he'd claimed last week. He sneered at seeing Harry, as if he was something smelly that a Kneazle had dragged in.

 

Harry tried to talk to Malfoy about their project, as Slughorn was expecting them to do, but it was clear the blond couldn't care less. Harry was getting frustrated.

 

“C'mon, Malfoy. We need to choose a potion at least, the class is over in a minute.”

 

“Fine,” Malfoy snapped, voice filled with loathing. “Veritaserum. That's your speciality, isn't it?” With that, he got up and exited the class, not caring that Slughorn was still talking.

 

When they were dismissed, Harry gathered his things slowly.

 

“Not going so well with Malfoy, is it?” Ron was looking surprisingly sympathetic. Harry didn't dare to think how pathetic he must've seemed for that to happen.

 

“You guys ready to go?” Hermione asked.

 

They had just made their way out of the dungeons, when a voice stopped him.

 

“Potter.” Harry spun around, surprised to see Zabini standing in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest. “I need to talk to you.” The boy gave a meaningful glance towards Ron and Hermione, and Harry gestured them to go on. Hermione frowned in a way that told him he was in for a questioning later.

 

“What did you do to him?” Zabini demanded as soon as Harry's friends had rounded the corner.

 

“What did _I_ do?” Harry sputtered, then realised that a bunch of second-years were walking towards the potions classroom and casting curious glances towards their direction. He cast a _muffliato_. “I didn't do anything. Malfoy's a total nutter.”

 

“Of course he is. Just try sharing a room with him for six years, then you can complain.” Zabini leaned against the wall, throwing his hair back in what must have been a well-practised motion. The monster that had only recently located itself in Harry's chest growled at the thought of him living with Draco. Malfoy. _Bloody fucking hell_.

 

“Why do you even think I know anything about Malfoy?”

 

“When he's in this much of a snit, it's always over you, Potter.” Zabini's lips curled into a smirk. “Besides, you knew who I was talking about.”

 

“Sod off.”

 

Zabini sobered. “You saw him.”

 

“He looked fine to me.”

 

“Are you an idiot?” Zabini demanded, and Harry bristled. “He's wearing a glamour. Would've thought you'd notice, the way you stare at him.”

 

“Why would Malfoy need a glamour?”

 

“He hasn't slept in days, he looks like death without it.” Zabini sounded bored, but his eyes narrowed on Harry. “Just fix this, Potter. That's what you do, isn't it?” He stalked off, leaving Harry seething.

 

 _How did I end up the bad guy, here? Malfoy's the one who dumped me_ , Harry thought, then immediately grimaced. It wasn't as if they'd been a couple or something, Harry reminded himself. Technically, Malfoy couldn't have dumped him.

 

It failed to make him feel any better.

 

**

 

When Ron and Harry got out of the changing rooms after quidditch practice, Hermione was waiting for them with a determined expression.

 

“Good luck, mate,” Ron said to Harry, before giving his girlfriend a quick kiss on the cheek and hurrying towards the castle.

 

“Thanks,” Harry muttered sarcastically at Ron's retreating back.

 

Hermione dragged him towards the lake. “Talk,” she said, when they were private. Harry gave a mental sigh. He should've just told her from the start. There was never keeping anything from 'Mione for long, and now she'd be mad at him for trying.

 

Harry sat on the grass, throwing a rock into the water. “You remember that day when Malfoy kissed me?”

 

“I'm unlikely to forget,” Hermione grinned, dropping down next to him.

 

“Yeah. Well, it didn't exactly end with that. We met up, a few times.” Harry still didn't want to talk about it, but now that he'd started, he was finding it difficult to stop. He felt a blush heat his cheeks, and buried his head in his hands, not wanting to see his friends reaction. “We had sex, and I've never felt anything like it. It was intimate. He's a total prat, most of the time, but he wasn't, for just a couple of days. He called me Harry and looked at me like I was somebody else, and now whenever he looks at me it's like I'm lower than dirt.”

 

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione simply said, drawing him into an embrace. Harry almost wished she'd get mad at him for getting involved with Malfoy and for not telling her. Her sympathy made his chest feel uncomfortably tight. The words were spilling unbidden.

 

“I gave him Veritaserum, you know, that day. I didn't want to tell you before I'd had the chance to do it. I would've told you afterwards except I was embarrassed. It didn't exactly go as planned. He said all these things, things that are now making me crazy, going around in my head. He sounded like he _likes_ me. And now... I don't know what the hell his problem is.” Harry stopped to allow Hermione speak, but on second thought added quickly, “Please lecture me about the Veritaserum later.”

 

“Don't doubt I will,” Hermione said wryly. “Alright, I'll help you figure out Malfoy, but you've got to give me more to go on.”

 

“When he was on the potion he kept going about my looks and how he wants me to save him and how he thinks about me and how he's always wanted me to like him, and he had this expression like he really thought I was something else, so open. And when he came off the potion he was pissed off, obviously, but then we ended up--” Harry blushed. “You know, doing stuff and then kissing.”

 

Hermione hummed in response, and Harry continued, eyes shut and head resting on her shoulder. “When we met, you know, afterwards, Malfoy... he was himself but he wasn't. I mean, he was difficult but he also acted like he really wanted me. Like he really saw me. As if he liked me.”

 

“And what happened?” Hermione asked gently.

 

“I went to find him.” Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat. “He saw me and it was like he hated me and he told me to leave him alone. And I would but, bloody hell, I can't get the prat out of my head.”

 

“You shouldn't give up so easily, then.”

 

Harry turned to look at Hermione, utterly flabbergasted. “This is Malfoy we're talking about. He's a Death Eater. How are you behind this?”

 

“You sound like you like him,” Hermione said simply.

 

“He wants nothing to do with me.”

 

Hermione snorted. “Doesn't sound like it. You're really surprised that Malfoy's being difficult?”

 

Harry supposed she had a point, there. “So, what should I do?”

 

“He told you himself. He wants you to save him.”

 

Harry threw more rocks into the water, deep in contemplation.

 

“How are you always right?” he demanded, finally. “I just need to out-stubborn him.” Hermione's laughter made him smirk.

 

_Malfoy won't know what hit him._

 

 


End file.
